


Silent Treatment

by Lenore



Category: Firefly
Genre: Community: help_haiti, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon tends to take Mal's bumps and bruises a mite too personally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> The story is for [](http://merle-p.livejournal.com/profile)[**merle_p**](http://merle-p.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/).

"So, 'bout how long you plan on givin' me the silent treatment, Doctor, if you can put an estimate to it, that is?" Mal slathers on a smile with some charm to it, least ways he hopes that's the effect it has.

Simon refuses to look up from his doctoring, like the stubborn mule of a man he is.

"Just some cuts, maybe a broken rib or two," Mal insists. "Ain't nothin' to go getting all het up about."

That earns him a glance at least, a displeased pinch between Simon's eyebrows that practically shouts: _You're a damned fool, and who's the doctor here anyway?_ Simon tends to take Mal's bumps and bruises a mite too personally, all the more so when Mal goes on a job without him.

"Weren't nothing you could have done if I had taken you along." Mal puts on a _be reasonable_ voice. At least he hopes that's the way it comes out. Frankly, he's got more experience taking a _do it because I say so_ tone. "Those anchorite dealers are quick to take offense, and fancy talk ain't going to placate 'em none. Only thing they understand is a fist to the face or a bullet in the gut. And I told you, Simon, I don't want you killin' folk."

More to the point, he doesn't want folk killin' Simon, although he keeps that to himself, what with the dark looks the doctor is already giving him.

Simon sets to work on Mal's ribs, his touch a trifle less gentle than usual.

Mal sucks his breath in through this teeth. "Now, see, this right here? This is exactly why I didn't think that this, this—" He waves his hand. He hasn't yet been able to put a word to whatever it is between him and Simon. Maybe he just isn't that brave. "Why _this_ might not be such a good idea."

Simon raises an eyebrow. All right, so that wasn't exactly what Mal said two nights ago when he had the doctor naked and sweating and under him. He defies any man to be able to keep a cool head when he has Simon Tam in his arms.

The doctor attends to some of Mal's deeper gashes and then moves over to the counter to make notes in Mal's chart. Mal can read the line of his shoulders as easily as he'd read words on a page. _You really test my patience, you know that, Captain?_

Mal lets out his breath tiredly. "You 'bout finished with me here, Doctor?"

Simon turns and gives him a long, assessing look. "No," he says at last. "There's one more thing."

He crosses the few feet over to Mal, leans in close and very lightly, very carefully presses a kiss to the raw, scraped place on Mal's cheek.

Mal's mouth curves into a quick, broad smile. "Why, thank you, Doctor. I do believe that has made it all better."


End file.
